When Life Hands You Lemons
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: Trouble is afoot between the best crime-solving team in America. Can B&B work through their issues and keep their partnership intact? Rated T for some case content.
1. When life hands you lemons

It had been a particularly grueling case. Not that most of their cases were happy, fluffy things, but this one had taken its toll on both partners. The victim had been a child- which was never easy- and the killer, her father, had molested the victim and her younger sister. The man had had the unmitigated gall not only to kill his own daughter when she refused his advances, but then toss her out with his household garbage as if she meant nothing to him. On top of that they had to take the girl's younger sister away from her father and place her into foster care.

"Did we do the correct thing?" she asked Booth as he sat down heavily in the driver's seat beside her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, starting the car and aiming back toward the city.

Brennan sighed, "I simply wonder if that girl will be any better off now than she was at home?"

Closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the passenger's seat of Booth's SUV, Brennan could still hear the little girl's screams as Child Services came to collect her. The child had fought desperately against the CS agents, begging to stay with her father.

"Of course she will," Booth said vehemently, "She'd be better off anywhere than with _that_ pervert."

"And therein lies the problem with love," she replied.

Booth kept silent, knowing that she would expound on that when she was ready.

"That father," she said finally, "truly believed that he was demonstrating 'love' to his children. The older daughter obviously thought that this was perverse, but the younger one did not. She opened herself to accepting his form of love and in return, we have removed her from a stable, _loving_ environment, and placed her in a system that will more than likely leave her feeling lost and alone."

"What that man showed was _not_ love," Booth insisted, "And one day his kid is going to realize that and be thankful that we pulled her out of there."

"Would you have wished to be taken from your home environment as a child?" she countered, "I'm sure that despite your father's abuse you still felt an emotional attachment to him."

"He was okay when he was sober," Booth gritted his teeth and clenched the wheel a little tighter, "But yeah, some days, Bones, I wished that someone would come and bust me and Jared out of there."

"I didn't want my parents to leave," she told him.

"I know, Bones," he shot back.

"Opening oneself up to love only leaves one vulnerable to whatever methods the other person chooses to express that love," her tone was firm.

"You're afraid," he told her.

"No."

"Yes," he gave her a sidelong look, "You are, Bones, but sometimes you just have to put yourself out there and embrace the risk."

"And what risks have you taken, Booth?" she was angry now, arms folded, jaw set, "For all of your noble talk of 'opening up' and 'embracing risks' you are one of the most tight-lipped, private people I have ever known!"

Booth was stunned into silence so she went on, "How many times have you almost forced me to share my personal feelings, and yet you refuse to reciprocate? You try and 'change' me but are resistant to change in yourself?

"All I know about your past comes from the three-word sentence you spoke in the bus shelter and the brief anecdote that I had to practically drag out of you in Sweets' office, even though I had just shared one of my most frightening childhood experiences."

"What did you want?" it was Booth's turn to grow angry now, "Did you want me to break down and tell all right there in front of the kid? Maybe cry or start a group hug? Would that've been enough for you?"

"We're partners," she said, "If we can't trust each other with private information _both ways_ than what do we have?"

"Maybe nothing," he spat, stopping the SUV a little faster than necessary as he stopped in front of her building.

"Perhaps," her voice was calm and even now, "And perhaps it would be best for us to temporarily cease our partnership until such a time as we can ascertain what our trust level is."

"Are- are you breaking us up, Bones?" there was a tremor in his voice as she slipped out of the car.

Without saying a word, she looked at him sadly, gave a half nod, then closed the door and walked toward her building.


	2. Lemonade or paper cuts

"This," Booth said as he hovered over Hodgins' workstation the next day, "Is all your fault."

Booth had been only mildly surprised when he'd swung by Bones apartment this morning only to find that she had already left for work without him. He'd promptly taken his offering of coffee and donuts and headed for the Jeffersonian.

On his arrival he had found her sequestered up in her office. She'd acted indifferent over the coffee and donuts and in a detached, professional voice had informed him that she'd finished her share of the paperwork from the case. Presenting him with a thick manila folder full of papers, she'd effectively sent him on his way and gone back to work.

Like a puppy dog with his tail between his legs, Booth had left with the folder and had been following Hodgins around ever since.

"Back up, G-man," Hodgins looked up at him now, "How is _your_ unwillingness to open up to her _my_ fault?"

"You and Angela were the ones who started this 'trust-is-necessary-in-relationships' crap and now Bones has picked up on it and _I_ have to suffer for it!" Booth paced back and forth in the cubicle's confines, alternately smoothing his neon yellow smiley-faced tie and running a hand through his hair.

"Dude," Hodgins chuckled, "You're either gonna wear a hole in the floor or go bald if you don't stop."

"I know, I know," Booth grumbled, "It's just- she's serious this time, you know? I mean, Bones and I bicker: it's what we do. But this goes way beyond that. She actually _dismissed_ me from her office! Like I was one of her lackeys! Might as well have called me 'Agent Booth' while she was at it."

"Okay," Hodgins turned to his friend, "Tell me again what happened."

Booth took the seat that Hodgins offered and sighed, "We were coming back from the case and talking about love and how she thinks that it's dangerous because you have to make yourself vulnerable to whatever kind of love the other person wants to give. Then _I_ tell her that she's just afraid of love and _she_ goes and flips out about how _I'm_ the one who won't open up and get close to people. Next thing I know she's talking about how we need to trust each other as partners and then she broke us up. Just like that," he snapped his fingers for effect.

"Ouch," Hodgins winced.

"Yeah," Booth nodded, "I mean, what does she mean by that? I trust her! I open up for her! Hell, I took a bullet for her! What more is a guy supposed to do?"

"I don't think the bullet ripping through you was the kind of 'opening up' she was talking about," the bug man answered wryly, "Face it, man, deep down our empirical Dr. B is a girl. And if there's one thing that girls want it's for us guys to share our feelings and talk about our personal lives."

"I'm a personal kinda guy," Booth said defensively.

"Which is why nobody but Cam knew that you even had a brother before Jared showed up?" Hodgins arched an eyebrow.

"Bones knew," Booth insisted.

"Because you told her?" Hodgins probed.

"Well, no," Booth shook his head, "More because I might've mentioned it to a suspect one time during an investigation, but still…"

"Uh uh," Hodgins shook his head, "That doesn't count. What else have you shared with her over the years? And I mean _really_ shared- not just something she'd pick up with enough context clues?"

"I told her about my time in the war," Booth said immediately, "Back when we were working the Charlie Kent case."

"Nearly four years ago," Hodgins murmured loud enough for Booth to hear.

"We've talked about my dad too," Booth was back on defense.

"In depth?"

"No, but I'm not a girl, okay?" Booth threw his hands up in the air again and stood up to resume his pacing, "My past is my past and believe you me, it's safer there."

"Just like Dr. B's was?" Hodgins asked, then quickly went on when Booth started to answer, "Look, everybody in this lab knows that you helped her work through her issues with Russ and Max. So why make her do it if you're not willing to do the same?"

"It's different," Booth muttered under his breath, then looked Hodgins in the eye, "You don't know my old man."

"Nope, don't need to," the scientist shook his head and fixed Booth with a serious look, "Dr. Brennan might not be a social whiz, but I know that she cares about you- a LOT- in fact, more than any guy I've ever seen her care about. You weren't here those two weeks she thought you were dead, but believe me, man, if you had been, you'd know that she cares about you and all she's asking is that you care enough about her to share some of the tough things- be as real with her and you make her be with you."

The air left Booth's lungs with a loud whoosh and he stopped pacing.

"So, what do I do about our partnership in the meantime?" he wondered out loud.

"Beats me," Hodgins shrugged, "Seems like she handed you a big old, fat lemon, my friend and it's up to you to figure out what to do with it."

"Make lemonade?" the agent grinned ruefully.

"Either that or find an annoying guy with paper cuts and throw the juice on _him_," Hodgins joked back.

Booth started to grin back, then groaned as he spotted the two people headed his way from opposite directions.

"Agent Booth," Sweets had a look on his face that told the agent the kid was not amused, "You and Dr. Brennan missed our session this morning."

"No can do, Sweets," Booth shook his head, "Gotta be _partners_ for that, and right now, Bones and I don't qualify."

"Which is why," Cam interjected, striding purposefully up to where Booth was standing, hands on her hips, "I cannot figure out what you are doing here," she looked from Booth to Sweets, then back again, "Doesn't the FBI give you people offices of your own?"

Sweets started to open his mouth when Booth cut him off, "Yeah, Cam, sorry. Sweets left his blanky here so we were picking it up and were just about to leave."

Cam hid a snort and managed, "Good. You're keeping my people from doing their jobs. And if you two keep it up, I _am_ going to post a 'No Loitering' sign _and _I'll make sure that Security gives you all the tickets they want for always parking in the 'No Parking' zone."

Hodgins scurried back to his microscope as Booth took Sweets by the shoulder and began steering him out of the lab despite the younger man's protests; whatever he was going to do about Bones was going to have to wait.


	3. Break out the Tequila and Salt!

"Sweetie," Angela called, rapping lightly on Brennan's door before letting herself in, "Why is Booth downstairs tailing Hodgins like a second shadow?"

"Booth is still here?" the anthropologist sounded surprised, "I gave him his paperwork an hour ago."

"Yup," Angela nodded, sitting down across from her friend, "And he's been down there pacing like a caged animal ever since. What'd you do to him, Bren?"

"I didn't _do_ anything," Brennan insisted.

She proceeded to relate the previous day's argument and subsequent fallout between them. Angela listened patiently, nodding every so often until her friend had finished.

"Skipping over the fact that you and Agent Hottie were talking about love and you immediately applied all of that to your relationship with him," Angela winked, "Why did you really break up with him, Sweetie? Did he hit just a little too close to home with his 'you're scared' comment, because it sounds like you shifted the focus awful quick after that?"

"First of all," Brennan looked her friend in the eye, "The phrase 'break up' has romantic connotations that I am not altogether comfortable with at this juncture. Secondly, the termination of our professional relationship is only temporary, pending the resolution of the trust issues between us."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Angela leaned back in her seat, "But is this coming from the same woman who goes on ad nauseum about how much we all need to trust Booth whenever a crisis pops up?"

"I do not!" Brennan protested, but softened under Angela's pointed look, "Well, perhaps on occasion I do, but regardless it is not _my_ trust in Booth that is in question in this instance."

"It's not?" it was Angela's turn to be surprised.

"No," Brennan shook her head, "I trust Booth implicitly as he has proven time and again that he is worthy of such trust; however, given that he consistently refuses to 'open up' as he calls it with me, I have recently come to question whether or not he trusts _me_."

Angela's mouth formed an "O" and she leaned forward, her voice just above a whisper, "You really think Booth doesn't trust you?"

"I would like to believe that after four years of partnership that he does," Brennan sighed and shrugged, "However, by his own statements, if he did indeed trust me than he would be willing to share more of his past with me. What few tidbits I have be able to glean about his past have been few and far between and under different circumstances I wonder if he would have divulged even that much information."

"Ever think maybe he just wants to put his past behind him?" Angela asked, "Like he's already worked through them and wants to move on?"

She shook her head, "No. He hasn't. I know enough of his past to judge that much."

"And you want to help him with his past like he's helped you?" Angela guessed.

"I want him to feel that he can disclose the parts of his past that are troubling to him with me without fear of reprisal or judgment on my part," she corrected.

"You realize that this goes way beyond a 'just partners' issue?" the artist gave her a knowing look, "That it means you want to be a part of Booth's personal life?"

Brennan nodded slowly, "I do. The relationship that Booth and I share obviously transcends the boundaries of a professional relationship," she allowed a wry smile to creep into the corners of her mouth.

"You're testing him!" Angela realized suddenly, "You _want_ something more and in your awkward little way you're trying to see if it's worth the effort."

"I will admit that I have been exploring the notion of entering into a more physical and personal relationship with Booth," she nodded, "Thus far, I have determined that he would be both intellectually and sexually stimulating as a romantic interest, and I believe that I could be for him as well."

"Please don't ever tell it to him _that _way," Angela shook her head, "So, what? You're collecting evidence on him to see if he's really into you too?"

"Every verdict demands evidence," Brennan smiled, then frowned, "Though in the end I doubt that Booth would be willing to act on any feelings that were revealed."

"Are you kidding me?" Angela exclaimed.

"He drew a line, Ange," Brennan said softly, "After Howard Epps nearly killed Cam, Booth said that people like us- with high risk jobs- could never enjoy more than a professional relationship."

"Sweetie, the way that man is mooning for you down there, I'm pretty sure that the statute of limitations has run out on that line," Angela smiled kindly, "And if it hasn't, it will once you tell him how you feel. Meanwhile," she rubbed her hands together and stood up, "You and I have some important business of our own to see to tonight."

Brennan lifted a wary eyebrow.

"History is in the making," Angela grinned, "You've just taken you're first steps toward riding off into the sunset with Booth."

"I still find marriage to be an antiquated ritual," Brennan told her.

"I said _riding_, Bren," the artist winked slyly, "And either way, we are going to spend tonight celebrating."

"Glug, glug, woo, woo?" Brennan asked with a mock tone of resignation and a wide smile.

"Exactly."


	4. Make Beef Stew Emphasis on the Stew

On the whole, the "glug, glug, woo, woo" night was a success. Angela tapped Cam to be the designated driver and the three colleagues had fun knocking back drinks- or club sodas on Cam's part- and shaking their heads at the men in their lives. Cam also vented on the ups and downs of her budding relationship with Michelle, while Angela took the opportunity to help Brennan improve her "girl talk" skills, though by night's end all she had to show for it was a confused anthropologist and a headache that had nothing to do with alcohol.

For her part, Brennan enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with her capricious friend, though she drank in moderation so as not to suffer any ill effects come morning. Every so often she would look around, half-expecting to see Booth somewhere amidst the throng of Friday night patrons at the Founding Fathers. When the night had passed with no sign of him she realized that she was slightly disappointed; not to mention she could not remember the last time she had been escorted home by someone who was not Booth.

With the passing of the weekend and the dawning of a new work week, Brennan realized that the fundamental flaw in her plan to temporarily put her partnership with Booth on hold was that the Jeffersonian was still contractually obligated to work with the FBI. It was true that she could refuse the work, though it would be highly improper of her and could strain the tenuous relationship between the two entities.

In the end, she determined that if a case arose, she would limit her fieldwork to the body's recovery and remain in the lab for the rest of the case. She e-mailed Booth with her stipulations and received a brief acknowledgement from him in response. A part of her felt guilty, knowing that she was no doubt injuring Booth's feelings; however, she convinced herself that the only way that she could know if a relationship outside of work was viable between them was to put him to the test in this manner.

In the Hoover Building, Booth was sitting at his desk, feeling like a tightly coiled spring and wishing that he had just a small iota of his partner's famed compartmentalization skills. He had deliberately avoided going to the Founding Fathers over the weekend and the Diner as well since he still hadn't figured out how in the world to approach Bones. He also hadn't figured out what to tell Cullen in the meantime if a case came in and Bones still wouldn't work with him.

So it was with mixed feelings that he received and replied to Brennan's e-mail. He was glad that she'd still handle the cases, but dismayed that she was remaining aloof where their partnership was concerned. Composing his response proved more difficult than he had anticipated, but he managed, then went back to work trying to figure out how to get things back on track.

His conversation with Hodgins had made him face head-on how little he really did share with his co-workers about things in his personal life. While it may not have been a deliberate effort, Bones did have a point that he encouraged sharing a lot more than he actually shared himself. Problem was, he grinned ruefully, he'd been hiding things- like his home life and things from his Ranger days- for so long he wasn't really sure where to start- nor was he altogether certain that she would still speak to him afterwards.

Would she want to know how his mother left when Jared was still a baby, leaving Seeley to raise Jared and serve as his father's punching bag for the next fifteen years? Would she understand how- fresh out of boot camp- he'd come home to find his dad beating on Jared and had choked him with his bare hand, threatening to kill the elder Booth should he _ever _touch either Seeley or Jared again? And once he touched on the abuse that he'd suffered at the hands of his dad how in-depth was he supposed to go- or could he go?

Every time his past had come up in recent months the underlying rage that he kept so carefully under control had bubbled to the surface and he'd had to fight desperately to keep it all together. Unearthing his past for her _might_ be good; but it also had the potential to completely break him, and he wasn't sure if he was up for that. But if he couldn't, he sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he stared blankly at his computer screen, did he really deserve to be her partner- or her friend?

The day slipped by without his confusion clearing up any further and the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to open that Pandora's Box. He would just have to wait this one out and hope that eventually she'd forget it and they'd go back to normal.

That day, though, turned into a week, which became two weeks, then three, then a month. During that time Booth and Brennan worked cordially enough together when they were forced to, but aside from that, little else was exchanged. Even when their days were spent working together, their free time at night was spent apart and both of them felt the loss of that companionship harshly.

As time dragged on with no change, Brennan began to conclude that not only did Booth not harbor any feelings for her beyond friendship, but she had effectively killed that relationship as well. Booth, on the other hand, felt like he couldn't stand the growing chasm between them much longer and was reminded anew how deeply stubborn Bones could be when she dug in her heels.

It was eleven thirty on a Friday night, six weeks from when Bones had separated them, when Booth decided that he was going to have it out with her if he had any prayer of salvaging what was left of their friendship. Arming himself with enough Thai food to feed an army, he steeled himself for whatever lay ahead, and knocked purposefully and forcefully on her apartment door.


	5. Throw Them Back and Ask for Chocolate

While Booth was prepping for what he was sure would be a blowout to rival the Great Bathroom Invasion from the year before, Brennan was enjoying a night of leisure. Angela had once again invited her out for a "glug, glug, woo, woo" night on the town along with all of the other members of the Jeffersonian team, but Brennan had declined. Her official excuse was that she needed some time to finish her current book, though in reality she was already three weeks ahead of her publisher's schedule because of all of the free time that she had had over the past six weeks.

It had been forty-three days, or roughly one thousand and thirty-two hours, since she and Booth had been on relatively good speaking terms. True, they had managed to interact cordially during the times that they were forced to work together, and their conviction rate had not suffered in the meantime, but there had been a void left by his absence, and as the weeks dragged on she grew more and more tempted to simply apologize for being so forceful and go back to the way things had been.

Each time she would be on the edge of giving in, however, she would bolster her resolve by reminding herself that it would be impossible to "go back" at this juncture, and that eventually Booth would give in. She was in no doubt that her tenacity could outlast his stubbornness and once she viewed the entire situation as a competition between the two of them, the temptation to relent faded.

So it was that on this Friday night she had enjoyed a long, relaxing bath and was currently curled up on her couch with a cup of hot chocolate and a forensic anthropology journal while the soft strains of Jazz floated through the air.

At the sound of the all-too familiar knock on her door, she hid a triumphant smile before casually standing up and moving over to the door.

"Come in," she welcomed him, nostrils flaring slightly at the smell of the Thai food.

She had tried one other time in the last six weeks to eat Thai, but had been unable to enjoy it because of all of the memories of Booth that it evoked.

"Hey, Bones," his tone was cautious as he tossed her one of his lopsided smiles, "Hungry?"

She relieved him of one of his burdens and nodded, leading him into the small kitchen where they could place all of the food. An unsure silence enveloped them as they worked in tandem to locate plates, glasses, drinks, and utensils for the meal. Like participants in a dance that had long before been choreographed, they wove in and around one another, finally settling at her table when all was accomplished.

"You got new chopsticks," Booth observed casually as they ate.

She nodded, mouth full of food, knowing that she would never tell him that she had broken her other ones in a fit of frustration over her inability to shake her emotional attachment to her partner. Silence stretched between them again as the food was consumed until they both unconsciously went for the last spring roll at the same time.

"Go ahead," Booth smiled kindly.

"No," she shook her head, "You take it, I'm sufficiently sated."

"You sure?" he raised an eyebrow, "It's still warm."

She playfully pushed the food away as he waggled it inches from her mouth, "I'm certain."

"Your loss," he grinned, placing the entire roll in his mouth and chewing loudly.

"You masticate like a cow," she chided him.

He choked and quickly chased the rest of the roll down with a swig of beer, "I do what!?"

"Masticate," she said, "Like a cow," she imitated his loud, long jaw movements, "Though without the four stomach chambers, of course."

"Of course," he intoned dryly with one final swallow.

"What word did you _think_ I said?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he waved the question away.

"You seemed rather disturbed," she commented absentmindedly, then suddenly met his eyes, a teasing glint coming into her own, "You thought I said mastur-"

"And look at that," Booth cut her off, "All of the food is gone. You want me to help you clean up, Bones? Good."

A giggle escaped her lips and she shook her head as they began clearing the table, "You know, Booth, that it is okay to-"

"Bones," he warned.

"But it is," she insisted, "I don't know why you have to be such a prude about these things."

"I. Am. Not. A. Prude," he said, enunciating every word, "I'm a gentleman," he held up his hand as she opened her mouth to retort, "Spare me the lecture, Bones, I know. But let's pretend for a minute that we're normal people and we choose not to make _that_ our first topic of conversation after six weeks, okay?"

"Technically," she said, nodding, "We have discussed cases over that time frame, so it's not as if we haven't spoken."

"Bones," he looked at her sternly, "You know what I mean."

She nodded and a look that crackled with electricity passed between them.

A portion of Brennan's mind mused that it was always at this point in her novels where either the hero or heroine moved in for a kiss; however, this was reality and instead the moment passed and they both moved toward the living room, coffee firmly in hand.

"Look, Bones-"

"Booth-"

The words were spoken in such proximity that it was impossible to determine who spoke first, but they both stopped and exchanged a sheepish smile.

"You first," Booth said, then added when she started to protest, "You _did_ give me the last roll."

It was a kind gesture and she accepted it as such. She discovered, however, that now that she had the opportunity to speak candidly with him, the words that she wanted to use evaded her. Lifting her mug to her lips she took a sip of coffee to buy some more time to compose her thoughts.

"When I initially proposed the temporary severance of our partnership I had not envisioned it lasting this long," she said finally, knowing that that was _not_ what she had really wanted to say.

A rueful grin played across his lips, "Irresistible force meets immovable object, eh?"

"Something along those lines," she gave a half-smile.

They lapsed back into silence, one not so uncomfortable, but still unsure.

"Somehow," Booth commented, "I pictured this scene unfolding with a lot more yelling and arguing."

"We don't argue," she smirked, recalling the words from the past, "We bicker."

"Touché," he tipped his hand to her, "And you win."

She looked up, eyes drawn to his like a magnet, "Excuse me?"

"You outlasted me," he grinned, "And don't tell me that you didn't see this in part as some twisted competition, because your poker face stinks, Bones, and when you opened that door I _saw_ that you thought you'd won."

"Haven't I?" she asked unpretentiously, "You are, after all, here."

Four years ago, maybe even six weeks ago, he would have jumped on that comment and gone on the defense, but now he simply smiled and shrugged.

"The only thing I can't figure out," he mused aloud, "Is why, Bones?"

It seemed like a rhetorical question, so she kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"Hodgins says it's because you're a girl," his lips smirked, but his eyes probed deep into hers looking for answers, "But that doesn't jive. I mean, we've been partners for four years and never once have you come out and asked me about my past- let alone demand that I bear my soul to you."

He let out a long sigh, "Back in the beginning we were both so adamant about playing things close to the vest, weren't we?" she nodded and he continued, "Then you found you mom, hooked back up with your brother, and all Keenan hell broke loose. Suddenly, Bones, your private life wasn't so private any more because not only was it our _job_ to find out the truth about what your mom and dad had gotten tied up in, but then the whole world watched your dad go on trial for Kirby's murder.

"But you know," he regarded her sagely, "It was good, Bones, because it forced you to deal with all of the crap that you'd been through. Even hiring Max on at the lab is a good things because it means you're not running away from your problems. Even when you screw up or get confused you just plow through it and that- that takes a lot of courage, Bones. A lot of heart."

His hand reached out toward her face, then stopped and pulled back as if he'd been burned.

"You did your fair share of pushing me along," she told him, because it was the truth, "Keeping my father on at the Jeffersonian was done at your request, if you'll recall, as was my initial reunion with Russ."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to listen to me," he pointed out, "You've ignored me often enough, but you didn't when it came to dealing with stuff from your past."

His gaze was on her again, but this time he seemed to be reaching out, begging her to understand whatever it was he was about to say next. His mouth opened but no sound came and he shut it. For a long moment they both sat there, unmoving, eyes riveted together even as his glazed over with emotion.

"You asked me why," she said, distracting him from the obvious pain, "And the answer is that I was attempting to ascertain your level of trust in me."

"You don't think I trust you, Bones?" he shot her a wounded look and pulled back slightly.

"I presume that you trust me at some level," she explained, "However, I was uncertain as to how much as- per your own standard of requirements in relationships- openness is a large indicator of how much trust one has in the other party."

"There is no one I trust more," he told her sincerely, taking her hands into his.

"Then allow me to help relieve you of your burdens as you have helped relieve me of mine," she challenged him.

"You don't need that," he did reach out and caress her cheek this time, slowly tracing her jaw line with his thumb.

"Do you think I'm too weak?" she accused softly, "Because only I can be the judge of how able or unable I am, and I can assure you that I am more than able."

"I know," he nodded in acknowledgement, "I know you're strong enough, Bones."

She stared at him, at a complete loss as to what was so difficult for him. Even now, she could see that he was wrestling with emotions that were far deeper than he ever revealed to anyone else, and yet he was still holding back. Judging people's motives and intents was his arena, not hers, so for the moment she simply waited for his explanation.

His countenance changed and slowly, haltingly, he began to tell her about his childhood. In barely controlled tones, he spoke of his mother's abandonment, his father's drunken rage, and his grandfather's steady guidance in the midst of it all. Anger and sadness alternated as he expressed his frustration over years of trying to shelter Jared from the harshness that he had endured and ultimately being rewarded with only his brother's contempt to show for it. Like her, he had known loneliness and the pain that comes when adults fail to live up to a child's expectations.

As he began to share about his sniper days, she found that they both used their personal brushes with injustice at home and around the world to fuel the careers that they had eventually pursued. Where she could not agree with the violent nature of the armed forces, she did begin to see the argument from Booth's vantage point; that good could be accomplished and a difference had been made. Still, however, there was a heavy load of guilt that had accompanied him from those times and she wondered silently if the good that he had done was worth the personal price that he had paid.

It was well after two in the morning when Booth finished, eyes hollow from reliving so much pain and guilt. Brennan was slightly surprised to find that in the course of the night, he had pulled her into his embrace, clinging to her at times as if she were an anchor in the overwhelming flood of emotions that he had experienced.

"Thank you," she whispered, laying a hand on his chest and offering him a small smile.

Her words broke his momentary trance and suddenly he was on his feet and headed for the door.

"Look, um, I should go," he began to shrug on his leather jacket, "It's late and I've already wasted enough of your time, so I'll- uh, see you at work I guess."

"Wait," she moved to join him, "Don't leave," she grasped at one of his hands, forcing him to face her.

The electricity between them crackled to life once more and this time neither one of them shied away.

"We're more than coffee," she blurted out, then added, "More than partners."

"Ah, Bones," he spoke tenderly and looked at her with a mixture of compassion and sorrow, "You deserve better than anything I could give you."

A whirlwind of emotions swept through her; ones that she neither understood, nor could fully quantify. Several possible responses came to her mind immediately, but she rejected each of them. The time for words had passed.

Boldly, she closed the distance between them, placed her lips on his, and initiated a kiss. His lips were large and warm under hers; his response immediate and instinctive. Acceptance and compassion were exchanged, but quickly gave way as their more primal emotions took charge.

Their hands separated and she felt his move to stroke her hair as hers encircled his waist.

"So soft," she heard him groan on her lips, "So silky."

The passion only escalated from there as she freed him from his jacket and pressed him forcefully against the nearest wall. His eyes ignited and a chuckle sounded from deep in his chest as he allowed her to press him, then quickly flipped them so that their positions were reversed.

A playful battle for dominance ensued, tongues battling in their mouths as they moved throughout the apartment. It was everything that she knew a kiss with Booth could be and so much more.

He stopped, momentarily just outside her bedroom door, pulling back slightly, an unspoken request in his eyes.

"Alpha male," she muttered, rolling her eyes and half-dragging him through the open doorway.

"Gentleman," he countered softly, lowering her to the bed.


	6. Epilogue

"Bones," Booth asked the next morning as they lay together, "What is this- this thing we have now?"

He held his breath, a part of him afraid that she would tell him it was no more than them acting on biological urges that had come as a result of working in such close proximity over the years.

"This," she rested her head on his bare chest, "Is us."

Feeling brave he asked before he could lose his nerve, "Are we a couple?"

She thought for a long moment, then nodded, "Yes, I believe we are."

"Monogamous?" he had to know next.

"If that's what you want," she replied.

"It is," he buried his face deep into her hair, inhaling the scent of her as he'd dreamed about doing so many times but never dared believe he ever would.

"I believe it's what I want as well," she smiled up at him, tracing lazy circles on his chest with her finger.

"Does that mean I can sufficiently satisfy both your physical and intellectual needs?" he teased, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

She threw her head back and laughed; her face lighting up with a brilliant smile, then kissed him soundly.

"Yes," she answered as they separated, "Just don't tell Angela that I told you that."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, unsure of what she meant, then shrugged. There were plenty of things that he didn't understand when it came to his Bones and plenty that she didn't get when it came to him, but now - now they had all the time in the world to figure things out.

* * *

**That's all she wrote. Please let me know what you thought! And don't worry, I'm sure I'll have a new project up and going soon!  
**

**Gum :)  
**


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